


When We Danced

by zinjadu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-27
Updated: 2012-06-27
Packaged: 2017-11-08 17:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/445620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinjadu/pseuds/zinjadu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How various HP characters dance.  Written a while ago, rehosting here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When We Danced

_Passion and Precision (Lucius, Narcissa, Severus)_

Never doubt that Lucius Malfoy loved his wife – it was just that for him to dance the tango with her in public was something he could not do. He was incapable of putting himself on such display. But Narcissa loved it. She would dance it all night if social graces would have allowed for her to do so. She was passion and fire, all in a nice little package.

They danced the tango in the privacy of a small, half-forgotten room. He would set the music to play and the strains would waft through the house, calling her to him. She was most willingly seduced when he arched a perfect white-blond brow and smiled so smoothly. They danced with abandon, movements long and slow then sharp and quick. It was like sex, only the parties were vertical and completely clothed.

But in public Narcissa had found Severus to be an acceptable dance partner. He was flawless. Each step executed with mechanical precision. But there was no fire, no passion to his steps. His movements were stilted and formal. And his expression never changed from the ever present scowl of vague disapproval. Narcissa still has fun, laughing and throwing herself into the dance, but Severus Snape could make even the tango seem like a chore.

_Beauty (Hermione Granger)_

Hermione Granger was not a great dancer. She wasn’t a good dancer. Hell, she wasn’t a dancer, period. End of sentence. Please do not ask. You want to know? Silly person. Well, alright.

Imagine a girl of average height and build. No, a bit shorter and thicker. Average, people; not the unreasonably pretty that passes for average on TV and in movies. Got it? Good. Add on very bushy, and I mean bushy, brown hair. Cute little nose and big brown eyes. Now set her in the middle of a room and turn on the radio. Watch as she steps out of time with the music and her arms flail above her head for some unknown purpose. Perhaps she’s trying to direct airplanes. Her hips move in no pattern, having little to do with the rhythm of the music.

But her whole heart goes into every awkward move. A slow song comes on, and a young man steps in to dance with her. His feet are stepped on, and when he spins her out she almost falls. Yet she still dances, smiling and exultant. She knows she cannot dance and never will be able to, but by God she will be out there doing something. And she is beautiful.

_Childish Moments (Sirius and Remus)_

They danced once after Sirius had escaped from Azkaban. The house on Grimmauld was still being made ready for human habitation and Remus broke out his victrola, and played some of that swing music he was so fond of. Needless to say, Sirius couldn’t let music like that go to waste on cleaning. No, that was music to dance to.

Sirius stalked up behind Remus and freed the other man from the drudgery of moving furniture by grabbing his arm and pulling him into the center of the room. Remus watched his old friend for a moment. Every move was graceful and fluid, and larger than it need to be, but it worked. There was flair, pinache. Real oomph. This was the Sirius he remembered, a boy so full of life that it was flying out of him all the time in all directions. Couldn’t sit still, couldn’t let a moment go by that he didn’t fully capture.

He must have been watching for too long because Sirius grabbed his arm again and pulled him close. Remus danced a bit hesitantly, moving with care, but as the notes kept pouring into the room between the cobwebs and dust he loosened up. Fluidity and the grace of the wolf taking over. If he felt adventurous for a moment he would nip at Sirius or growl with the melody. And for a moment they were boys again, carefree and happy, dancing together.

_Protecting You (Ron and Luna)_

Ron dances like such a man. The moves are a bit off and nothing quite looks like it’s supposed to, but Luna doesn’t complain so he gets away with it. As long as he doesn’t step on her feet, she’s fine. Even then, it isn’t that big a deal. He’s having fun, not caring how stupid he looks (and he knows he does), and that’s the important thing.

Luna dances as though she’s underwater, slow and languorous. Her eyes are slightly unfocused, but when she looks back at him the world is sharp and clear. She takes time to ponder each move and selects the right one for the moment, if not for the music. They are an odd pair to watch, but somehow they work.

And when the song is a slow one, he holds her, not bothering with the steps he made a half-hearted attempt to learn. He holds her like he’ll never let go and will protect her from all the harm and evil in the world. But she’s holding him, just as unwilling to let go, protecting him from himself and all the evil he can’t see.

_Behind the Curtain (Tom Riddle)_

Like an angel from heaven, Tom Riddle danced and the girls’ hearts melted. He had taught himself how to dance from an old book he’d found in the public library and practiced with some of the girls at the orphanage. They had wanted to learn how to dance too, and he was the one with the book.

At Hogwarts there had been a ball or two and he had always arrived with the most beautiful girl and they danced like they were born to it. His feet seemed to barely touch the ground and the rest of his body did things it really shouldn’t have been doing in the nineteen forties. But the traditional waltz was his best. He’d start with a bow and then firmly place his hands on his partner and lead her confidently and smoothly through the steps. A charming smile somewhere in the middle, and a kiss on the hand when the dance was over was how it was done.

After school he won many friends just by how well he danced. He must have been raised well to dance like that, have such good manners, be so eloquent, and have all the right opinions. Oh yes, he was up and coming all right. What a show he gave them; dance a little and you went a long way.

_Silly Traditions (Albus and Minerva)_

They are old and do not dance like they used to. The steps are slower and more careful, minding the long robes they both wear. Bones creak and joints ache, that is why they only dance once a year, in the spring. When the air is warm and life comes back to the world, a flick of a wand turns Albus’ study into an uncluttered dance floor.

She thinks it’s horribly silly. There is no point to it, not anymore. They are not young and have far better things to do with their time, but she cannot stop this small tradition. That would be backing down. Minerva dances with a soft precision, mindful of her pained knees, and a small amount of sadness for how well she used to dance. And all the people she can no longer dance with.

He loves it. Revels in the movement and udder pointlessness of it all. It’s not often that he is able to do something that has no real purpose. His long, crooked fingers hold her close. If he could, he would dance until he dropped, but his cares and regrets would weigh him down to the floor before he knew what had happened.

They dance away the memories of the fallen and forget the strife that will be the death of them both. If only for one dance.

_Knowing How to Move (Draco Malfoy)_

He was seventeen, but had not changed much. At least not where it mattered. On the outside he was much more smooth and sure of himself. Inside he was still the arrogant little snot that half the school hated and the other half hated, but kind of liked too. It was all about how he moved.

The way he walked as if things would move out of his way because that’s where he was going to be and of course he was much more important that whoever was currently occupying the space he was about to walk through. That slow tilt of the head and cloying smirk. It said: “I’m so bad and you like it.” How he danced was worse (or better, depending on whom you asked). He had been taught how to dance and then systematically forgotten every precise move his mother had drilled into him. That was dancing for good little boys who didn’t know any better. He danced like a bad boy who knew just enough to pull it off.

It was all about moving like you knew what you were doing every second of the day. Being in complete control. Always leading, always going forward or around the dance floor. The important thing was constant movement. When you’re moving they can’t pin you down.

_Accidents (Kingsley and Tonks)_

They first danced at a pointless Ministry function. He would have much rather been getting work done, and she would have liked to been actually dancing instead of sitting by the wall. Tonks was used to being treated like a ticking time bomb of accidents and bad karma, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. She had even made sure to look normal for that night. That was how he noticed her, while trying to sneak out to get back to his office. So he asked her to dance. Sure it was risking life and limb, but it wouldn’t really hurt anything.

She kept trying to do things – things that you shouldn’t really do if you’re trying to dance. That was how she would always get out of control. Trying to be bigger, out there, impressive. Show them all how good she was, but she just wasn’t paying attention and whoops, there goes the priceless Ming vase. But he kept her in check, not holding her back, but letting her be noticed without the side affect of Rube-Goldberg type accidents. She glowed with joy about not causing any accidents, and it was thanks to him.

He was so solid, boring, predicable. Every step was just something in a routine. Dance by numbers and get it over with. That was how he got things done. Pick up a task, finish it, put it down. But she challenged him, made him change, made him keep up with her. He became engrossed in dancing with her, not wanting to lose one step.

_Letting Go (Oliver and Percy)_

Percy didn’t dance. He could dance, yes, but he found it a waste of time. And, he admitted to himself, something that could make a person lose control. Percy was all about control. So that was why, when Oliver showed up to his office one day in a muggle tuxedo with a rose in his hand, Percy almost had a fit.

But Oliver ignored his protests and pulled Percy out of his chair and started to dance to the slow strains of music starting to float about the room. Still protesting, Percy was moved about the room by Oliver, who was blithely dancing on. What made it worse was that the music kept changing every half minute and so did the dance that Oliver was leading them through. It was hard for Percy to adjust so quickly.

Eventually, Percy forced Oliver to pick a damn song. But at least he had backed down and let Oliver stay. Outside the office, Percy’s grumbling and Oliver’s laughter could be heard just underneath the fast and kicky notes of the Cha-Cha.

_Family (Rodolphus, Rabastan, Bellatrix)_

Bellatrix danced like a storm, full of energy and violence, not stopping until she was completely drained and there was barely anything left for her to hold herself up with. Rodolphus knew better than to try to keep up with the whirlwind that was his wife. She would spin away and come back to him when she wished, so it did not bother him when she would spin in the arms of another man.

Rodolphus had his brother, and they would always be together. Rodolphus knew the steps and could put passion into them, which pleasantly surprised Bellatrix once upon a time. He would twirl Rabastan about the dance floor, an indulgent smile on his face. He ignored the whispers and the accusations. Those things couldn’t touch him while he danced.

Rabastan flitted and twirled about the room, moving with no rhyme or rhythm other than the one in his head. He was taken to another world with the melodic colors and the bright sounds. It was all so happy. And it was even better that his brother was there with him.

It was not that they danced together, but more that they all danced in their own ways in the vicinity of each other.

_Wallflower (Peter Pettigrew)_

Peter wasn’t afraid of dancing, but he was afraid that people would laugh at him. He knew he didn’t look that great, small and kind of round with stringy blond hair that would never do more than cover the top of his head. No one really ever wanted to dance with him, and that was alright.

He was content to watch, though. All the people on the dance floor would look so nice and move so well. The boys were all handsome and the girls were all pretty; it was like a fairy tale. His friends would cajole and plead with him to come out onto the dance floor, but they never managed to pry him off his spot at the wall for longer than a dance or two.

But one day a girl asked him to dance, and he couldn’t turn her down. He took special care not to step on her feet and keep up with the music, and he had never had more fun at one of these things. When the dance was over he didn’t want to go back to his spot on the wall, so he didn’t.

_Setting the Pace and Keeping Score (Fred and George)_

When Fred and George took to the dance floor, everybody ran for cover. They would keep the beat, but nobody else could hear the music they danced too. It was truly to the beat of a different drummer or fifty. Girls learned to avoid the Weasley twins when the subject of dancing came up, or they learned why they had to. And it wasn’t pretty.

After they finished the dance floor would be in ruins. Formerly happy couples would be strewn about the floor like they had been to battle, picking themselves up and suddenly hating dancing. The floor was scuffed and torn and in some places bowed or rippled. No one asked how that happened. No one wanted to know.

They couldn’t be forced or cajoled into dancing in a less destructive manner, and even family gatherings weren’t safe. It was speculated that they had a point system for who did the most damage, and weddings were the highest scoring events. Blushing brides were the target of choice.

Was it malice, or just plain insanity that drove them to dance like maniacs on crack? Or was it that they were just having fun, and trying to find someone who could keep up with them.

_Eyes Wide Open (Sibyll Trelawney)_

It was rare for Sibyll to come out of her tower on a normal day, let alone for some kind of social function. Those clouded her Inner Eye more than anything else. All those emotions clouding the air, mucking everything up. But every once and while, her readings would indicate that it would be prudent to descend and deal with things of a more mundane nature.

The music would start, but whatever it was she would always dance the same way. Her arms would be spread wide, shawl barely clinging to her and her face turned upwards as if she was dancing with an ethereal partner from above.

She communed with the world as she danced, finding the rhythm of the earth and all the sprits. Turning and twisting, her eyes would be closed but she never failed to be clear of all the other dancers. And when it was over, she would climb the steps back to her tall tower with her eyes, Inner and Outer, clear.

_A Most Devastating Man (Gilderoy Lockhart)_

At least two hours before any social engagement, Gilderoy would sit down and begin to cultivate the perfect look for the evening. Every strand of hair in place, face done up just ever so slightly (he wasn’t getting any younger, you know!), teeth so white they could blind, and his resplendent outfit donned last so as to avoid wrinkles.

He would make an entrance, ensuring every eye on him and every eye shining admiration. Oh, his adoring public, how they loved him. So cavalier, so dashing. So debonair? My word, he was. He would woo the ladies and they would swoon at wave or a glance. He dare not smile too much, who knows what it affect it would have?

In between tales of heroic deeds fighting for the good of Wizarding kind in far off places, he would take turns about the dance floor. Every step perfect as he twirled and spun the ladies. He was careful not to over-do it; after all, he could not look like he was getting tired or Merlin forbid, sweating.

_Taking Advantage of a Quiet House (Molly and Arthur)_

For the first time in a very, very long time they were home alone. No children running around screaming for attention or at each other. The dishes were done and the house was in the best condition it had ever been in. It was amazing how well things held up when no one was trying to actively destroy the immediate surrounding area.

Arthur had looked around, confused for a moment by the quiet, and then found that he couldn’t take it. He turned on the Wizarding Wireless and the brassy strains of a trumpet blared out into the house. Molly bustled into the kitchen just in time for Arthur to sweep her around the room. She fell into step and laughed like she hadn’t in a long time.

They danced throughout the whole main floor of the house and out into the yard. The wind and picked up and it was slightly chilly. The ground was uneven and making their steps difficult. But they kept dancing, because they could and no one was calling for their attention but each other.

_A Fleeting Moment (James and Lily)_

Their wedding had been a small, private affair and the reception was no different. Neither of them had ever imagined that they would be getting married in the middle of a war, forced to keep attendance at a minimum for safety. For their first dance as husband and wife the guests stood against the wall to give them enough room to move around the floor.

He held her with quiet assurance, knowing how to dance from a young age. When he danced with her, there was a calm that came over him. He was normally so active, always moving, always rushing off to the next big thing, but she steadied him. He didn’t need to go anywhere when he was with her, because when he saw her he was home.

She was somewhat nervous, having never formally danced before. She had not had the time to learn, too much was happening. People were dying and it seemed more than a little stupid to take the time to learn how to dance. Yet with him she felt like nothing in the world could touch them and it was all going to be okay. When she was with him, the worry went away and she could breathe free for a time.

As they danced, they could forget about what might happen tomorrow or the next day. Who was here that wouldn’t be inside of a month. What would be destroyed. But when they stopped, the world came back.

_Missing Something (Harry Potter)_

Harry was no good at dancing. He was half-passable at the steps, but he couldn’t bring himself to get close enough to a girl to dance like a normal person could. He felt awkward and unsure of what he was supposed to do. Where was he supposed to put his hands? When did he do the turn? At that beat or at the change in melody? What was the melody? Or the harmony, for that matter. It was all too complicated and there was so much stuff to remember.

He had honestly tried to learn. They had won, hadn’t they? There were so many celebrations going on that it sure seemed that way, but nothing could lift that feeling that they had lost more than they had gained. Women kept trying to talk to him, but they didn’t know what he had done or had gone through. They only saw the scar and the name. They didn’t want to get close.

But they still wanted to dance, to be seen with the famous hero of the age. Everybody wanted him at their party, and he didn’t know what else to do other than go. He didn’t want to offend anybody either, on the off chance that the Prophet would change its mind and take to slandering him again. So he danced, or went through the vague motions of it. He was still unsure where as to place his hands, and didn’t think he’d ever figure it out. Harry didn’t like dancing.


End file.
